


Chance Encounters

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College!AU, History Nerd!Derek, If Derek getting hit with a football counts as meet cute, M/M, i guess?, jock!Stiles, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7550506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is studying on the grass on his college campus when he gets hit with a football out of nowhere, and the jock who comes to retrieve the ball and apologize to Derek takes his breath away. </p><p>It really sucks that he'll most likely never see him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Encounters

“Dude, heads up!”

But it was too late, and by the time Derek looked up, blinking at the bright sun, there was no stopping the football from ramming right into Derek’s head.

It sent Derek toppling to the side, black rimmed glasses flying off his face from the force of the impact.

“Oh shit, dude, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Someone was shouting at him, and then Derek felt a gentle touch on his arm.

It had happened so fast that Derek felt disoriented. One minute he had been rereading the textbook for his history class, the next he was being hit in the head by a football and there were stars in his line of vision. And also, he had a massive headache coming on. Great.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” Derek snapped, rubbing at his left temple, hissing at the pain he felt blooming all over the left side of his skull and slowly through to the rest of his head.

“Uh, right, no, you’re uh, obviously not okay, um. Sorry, stupid question. My bad.”

The voice attached to the hand at his arm was fairly deep, and then when Derek looked up and saw the face that went with the voice, he wondered if this was going to turn into a rom-com situation, because Derek felt blown away by the boy’s handsome features.

“Can I get you some ice? Or something? We brought a cooler with us, I can totally go grab some,” The guy said earnestly, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb, and Derek looked over his - naked - shoulder to see a handful of guys near the other end of the quad, all shirtless, hats on, looking toward Derek and the guy who was with Derek, who must have been the one who would have caught the ball had it not landed on Derek’s head instead, and who Derek saw was also shirtless and oh hey there, dark happy trail that led down beneath the shorts the guy was wearing as well as the peak of black underwear under the shorts and oh holy god.

“Um, uh, yeah, that would be, uh, that would help,” Derek stuttered, looking up into the guy’s eyes and fuck, the guy had probably the most gorgeous brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life. They even seemed to glint a tint of gold in the blinding sunlight.

Then the guy had to go and fucking smile, and Derek was struck by its beauty.

“‘Kay, hold on, I’ll go get it, I’ll be right back, don’t move!” The guy said as he stood up, putting his not overtly muscled, but very well defined anyway, chest on display. “You could have a concussion!” The guy finished and then he was turning around and jogging back toward the other shirtless guys, and Derek was left gaping after him.

Of course the guy had a fantastic ass too, and Derek had to swallow past the lump in his throat and look away.

This guy was part of the reason Derek’s head was now killing him and he’d probably have a bruise on his left temple and maybe even a concussion (although probably a mild one) and Derek was getting all googly-eyed over the guy.

Blinking rapidly, Derek reached for his glasses and slid them back on, wincing as they brushed part of the growing bruise.

Derek went to gather his book and a few scattered papers - sometimes Derek put his papers in his book because he was too much in a hurry to put them in a proper place - when the guy returned with a bag filled with ice, and fuck, the glasses just made it easier to see the guys beautiful face and the beautifully naked chest and that goddamn happy trail.

He was actually glistening with sweat as he apologized once more and knelt down next to Derek, and Derek inhaled sharply when the guy gently put the ice to his head himself instead of just giving the bag of ice to Derek.

“Thank you,” Derek murmured, staring into the guy’s eyes, and he smiled gently back at Derek.

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said, “’s my fault you’re hurt in the first place.”

“Pretty sure it’s one of your dude bros’ fault, actually,” Derek said, and looked over the guy’s shoulder to look at said dude bros.

“‘Dude bros,’” the guy repeated, snorting with laughter as he shifted on his knees, closer to Derek. Derek tried not to stare at the guy’s chest as he did so.

“Dude, Stiles!” One of of the guy’s - Stiles’ - friends called over to them. “Throw back the ball, man!”

Stiles looked over his shoulder, and Derek just now noticed that he was wearing a backward baseball cap like his friends and were these guys for real? It was like they were actively trying to fulfill the jock stereotype.

“All right, dude, hang on!” Stiles, apparently - which, okay, people used that as a first name? Or was it this guy’s last name and his friends just called him by his last name? - called back, and then he was turning back to Derek, asking him to hold the ice, which Derek did.

Then Stiles stood up and walked over Derek’s legs and jogged over to where the ball had rolled after it had hit Derek’s head and had flown to the ground. Then he picked up the ball, turned around and launched it back towards his friends, making the ball move in a perfect spiral as he did so.

One of Stiles’ friends effortlessly caught the ball, and Derek watched in amazement as they went back to throwing the ball, and Derek actually heard them call each other “dude” several times all the way from where he was sitting.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles said as he came back to Derek’s side, and then he actually took the ice from Derek and turned it around so it was newly cold against Derek’s temple, and then he just kept holding it there, like a perfect gentleman.

“It’s okay,” Derek murmured, looking up at Stiles, who was still smiling at him like smiling is what he did 24/7 or something. It was freaking Derek out even as it was setting his heart racing, which, what?

“That’s good, I’m glad,” Stiles smiled, and Derek couldn’t help the somewhat dreamy sigh from moving past his lips.

“Um, you can get back to your friends, I think I’ll be okay,” Derek said, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to talk more with Stiles, wanted to ask if Stiles was actually his name, wanted to know if he’d be interested in going out for coffee or something, nothing serious, but they literally just met, and Derek didn’t want to come on too strong and scare the guy away. Not that they would ever see each other again after Stiles left, anyway.

“You sure?” Stiles replied, looking worried as he took the ice away from Derek’s temple and looked at the bruise forming there, wincing in sympathy.

“I’m sure. I’ll be okay, no worries,” Derek said, nodding and then immediately regretting the action when it made his head throb in pain. He couldn’t hold back the wince, and Stiles’ brow furrowed in even more worry.

“At least tell me you’ll see the campus nurse or something,” Stiles said, biting his lip as he lifted his hand up and brushed his fingertips ever-so-gently against the bruise on Derek’s temple, and that light tough sent Derek’s face ablaze in the sensation, and Derek was pretty sure that it wasn’t the sun that was causing his cheeks to turn red right now.

“I will, I promise,” Derek found himself saying, and fuck, he didn’t even know this kid and he was already making promises he wasn’t sure he would keep.

“Okay, okay. That’s good. Sorry again,” Stiles said, and he seemed reluctant to leave, even, as he stood up and hey, there was that glistening with sweat and sunlight chest again, wonderful. “Bye,” Stiles called as he backed up, turning to job back towards his friends.

“Bye,” Derek called back and Derek couldn’t find it in himself to look away until Stiles was swept up in his group of other shirtless friends.

~*~

Apparently, that whole “never going to see Stiles ever again” thoughts Derek had were a little, um, wrong.

It was only two weeks later when Derek ran into Stiles. Not figuratively, either. Derek actually ran right into Stiles as he was turning a corner, while he was carrying a scalding hot coffee and important class papers clutched to his chest, and the force of said impact sent the coffee Derek’s way, which meant it went all over said papers and chest, and Derek groaned in pain as Stiles went tumbling to the ground with a shout of surprise.

“Fuck, motherfucking fuck-a-duck,” Stiles moaned painfully from the ground, rubbing his ass where he lay on the ground.

Derek himself was cursing, arms spread out as coffee ran down his chest, dripped off his papers, onto the ground.

“Fuck, dude, are you made of bricks or something?” Stiles exclaimed before he looked up, and then he was gaping up at Derek.

Derek turned to find a garbage can for his now useless coffee, and he heard Stiles gasp as he realized who Derek was.

“Oh my god, injury dude!” Stiles said, and Derek had to resist laughing at the name Stiles had given him.

Derek found a garbage across the hall and down a little ways and went to it, tossing the crushed coffee cup into it and then turning back towards where Stiles now stood against the wall, rubbing his right buttock all the while.

Derek saw that he was wearing a shirt this time, but he was also wearing the backwards baseball cap again. Derek could guess from the hair peeking out of the hat that it was brown, but that was about it.

“Injury dude?” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I uh, didn’t get your name last time, uh…” Stiles trailed off, looking at Derek uncertainly.

“Derek,” and he held out his hand, feeling a bit like an idiot, but Stiles just took his hand in his to shake it, and Derek couldn’t believe that he liked the feel of Stiles’ hand, that just his skin against Derek’s was making his heart beat faster. “And you’re uh…Stiles?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Uh, one of your frat buddies shouted your name last time, out on the quad.” Like they had talked or seen each other at any other time. Good one, Derek.

“Frat buddy,” Stiles said, eyebrows raised. “Nice.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No no, you’re totally right, I mean, Jackson is a frat boy, so,” Stiles nodded, and then before silence could prevail, he looked up at Derek, more specifically, his left temple. “How’s the head doin’?”

Derek reached up automatically to press his fingers to the bruise that had pretty much healed. “Good. No permanent damage, hopefully,” Derek laughed, and Stiles smiled.

“That’s good, good. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty head of yours,” Stiles said, and his cheeks turned red, his teeth bitting softly into his lip, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“You think my head is pretty?” Derek said, voice lilted in a pleasant, soft way. Derek realized that he took a step closer to Stiles, that he was flirting - or was trying to flirt - with Stiles.

“Uh, um, yeah,” Stiles cleared his throat, looking down at his flip flop clad feet and bitting that beautiful lower lip.

“That’s um…you too,” Derek said, cursing his awkwardness.

“That’s…that’s good,” Stiles said, looking up, and then their eyes caught and held, and Derek realized that he was grinning, and Stiles was grinning too. “So I guess I’ll see you around, maybe?”

“Yeah, yeah maybe,” Derek murmured.

“Sorry about the coffee,” Stiles said, gesturing to the papers still in Derek’s hands and the huge coffee stain on his shirt and wincing.

Derek shrugged, pulling his shirt away from his now wet, sticky, and stinging chest. “I’ll live. It’s not that bad.”

When Derek looked back up, Stiles was staring, but not at Derek’s face. He was staring at the little bit of Derek’s stomach that was then visible from lifted his shirt up and away from his chest.

Derek found himself smirking. It wasn’t a confirmation, but it was a pretty good indicator that Stiles might just be into guys too.

“Stiles?”

Stiles blinked, looking up at Derek as he came out his reverie, and then he was blushing even harder. “Right! Right, uh, I should be going. Sorry again, about the running into you and spilling coffee all over you…thing,” Stiles said, and then he started backing away.

“No problem,” Derek said, waving the problem away with his hand.

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye,” Derek called, and then Stiles round the corner and he was gone. Derek had to stop himself from going after him for some reason. Stupid, he knew that.

That didn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest, though.

~*~

The next time Derek runs into Stiles - literally, again - he’s at a party.

His best friend Erica, having decided that he had was too boring by staying in every Friday night and studying or reading some book, or surfing the internet for hours, had practically dragged him out of his room to come to the party that was being held in one of the frat houses on campus.

The crowd was large, the ambient noise of so many voices filling the room along with the pounding beat of the club music that was playing over the speakers. The were a layer of smoke above them all, which meant people were either smoking cigarette or pot or both somewhere in the house - it certainly smelled like pot - and there were two large tables up against a far wall, filled with all kinds of alcohol ranging from beer to the hardest of hard liquors.

Erica had brought her boyfriend, and another one of Derek’s best friends, Boyd, with them to the party, and they broke away from Derek fairly quickly to do their own thing, and that left Derek to wander through the crowd by himself.

It’s when he’s got a beer in hand, walking through the throngs of dancing bodies, that he literally runs into Stiles again.

Stiles is shouting something over his shoulder that sounds like, “yeah, Scott, I heard you the first time!” and then he’s turning around and into Derek.

Stiles squeals in shock and flies back into some dancing couple, and one of the girls shouted out a “hey!” and shoved Stiles away from her and her dancing companion, looking annoyed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Stiles shouted back at them over the blaring music, and Derek is just…standing there, drenched in beer. When Stiles turns back to Derek and sees that it is Derek that he ran into, his eyes go wide, and he takes in what happened. “Oh shit, Derek, I’m sorry!” Stiles is repeating, moving forward into Derek’s personal space, hands hovering over Derek’s now drenched shirt - it’s white, so now it’s practically see through - as if he wants to fix it in some way, like put all the spilled beer back in the cup, but when he realizes there’s nothing he can do he clenches his hands closed and drops them back to his side.

He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap. Again.

And just…finds himself laughing, looking down at his shirt, then up at Stiles, who looks shocked at Derek’s amusement.

“Dude, Derek, you okay?” Stiles shouted over the music, hands going up to hover in front of Derek again, as if Derek’s going to collapse or faint and he wants to be prepared.

Derek just laughs harder, and Stiles eventually starts laughing too, Derek’s laughter infectious in the small space between them.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Derek said when he calmed down enough to speak, tears of laughter filling his eyes.

Stiles laughed in agreement. “Very true.”

Another moment passed, and then Derek spoke. “Stiles?”

“Yeah?” Stiles sounded breathless, eyes lit up in mirth.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Stiles hesitates for only seconds before he’s nodding, and then Derek boldly grabs Stiles’ hand and starts weaving through the mass of bodies, never letting go of Stiles’ hand, and when he feels Stiles change the grip to weave his fingers through Derek’s, Derek feels his heart skip a beat.

They finally pull away from the crowd of people and make it to the door, and then out. And then they’re spilling down the front steps and onto the front lawn.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked, voice now at normal volume now that they were outside and away from the party, although the bounding bass could still be well heard from outside.

“I don’t know, the quad?” Derek asked, and Stiles silently agreed by walking up to Derek’s side, hand still in his, and going with Derek.

They talk on the way there, just enjoying the dark campus, lit up by the stray lamppost here and there between buildings and on the walkways between patches of grass and lawns. Derek asks Stiles what year he’s in - Stiles is an undergrad, in his junior year - and what his major is - Criminal Justice. Stiles asks Derek the same, to which Derek replies he’s a senior and that he’s a History major.

“History, boo, boring!” Stiles exclaimed into the fairly vacant campus - everyone was either at some party or another, or already in their dorm or apartment. They only passed a few people on the way to the quad.

“Hey, no, no!” Derek argued. “History is more than what you think of it as. It’s actually really interesting.”

“Puh-leaseee,” Stiles snorted, grinning over at Derek. “Learning about Charlemagne and all those Monks and shit, blah blah blahhh,” Stiles groaned, throwing his head back, and Derek shook his head, not giving in.

“Nope. Learning what life was like for people back then, how it was different but also not so different at the same time? What happened in their lives? That’s awesome. They definitely all had more interesting lives than we do today.”

“What!” Stiles shouted, gasping as if offended. “They didn’t have internet or movies, no technology. I bet it was horrid. I mean, just imagine,” Stiles shuddered in horror at just thinking about life without the internet.

Derek snorted. “They had books, they had theater, they had parties,” Derek implored, looking back over his shoulder toward the party they had just left. “It wasn’t like they were slaving away everyday, Stiles. Or even sitting around in their homes doing nothing but knitting. They all had full and enriched lives.”

“Boring, I tell you!” Stiles proclaimed, swinging his and Derek’s still entwined hands, and Derek’s heart fluttered at the sight, at the feeling of it. He wanted to keep holding Stiles’ hand forever. Which was ridiculous, what was wrong with Derek all of the sudden?

“You’re boring,” Derek shot back petulantly, and Stiles gasped in mock offense, hand to his chest.

“Rude!”

“I’m not even sorry,” Derek said as they made it onto the quad, the lampposts the only thing illuminated the grass, and they quietly and without saying anything, went towards one of the lit up areas at the edge the quad. Derek felt the cool, gentle breeze against his skin and felt peaceful, calm, except for where Stiles’ hand was touching his. His hand felt like it was set ablaze from the touch.

“I’ll show you boring,” Stiles muttered, and then they were stopping, and Stiles was turning to stand in front of Derek, body close to Derek’s.

Derek looked down at their hands, felt nervous, jittery, heart hammering. “Stiles, I uh, I really like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“Can we go out sometime? I mean, can I take you out on a date…sometime?” Derek finished lamely, and Stiles grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“Yes, I’d like that. A lot.”

“Okay, cool,” Derek said, and he found he couldn’t stop smiling. He was in college, but he felt like he was in high school all over again and he was having his first crush - although admittedly he hadn’t felt this strongly for his first crush.

Derek looked up at Stiles again, and slowly reached up to brush his cheek with his thumb, feeling that tingling sense of anticipation in his gut.

Then he was cupping Stiles’ cheek and Stiles was leaning into it, never taking his eyes off Derek, not once.

The night was quiet, almost serene, only the sounds of distant cars and nature letting Derek know what was happening was real.

Third time’s a charm, they always say.

Derek leans in and kisses Stiles softly, hesitantly, and Stiles sighs into it, kissing Derek back.

Derek pulls back after a bit, and his eyes catch Stiles’ backwards cap. Smirking, Derek reaches up and tugs it off Stiles’ head, revealing a beautiful mess of brown hair, and Derek tosses the cap aside onto the grass, runs his fingers through the brown locks.

“I like your hair. And yet you’re always wearing backwards hats when I see you.”

Stiles shrugs. “I like ‘em.”

“Then I like them, too,” Derek finds himself saying, internally wincing at how stupid he sounds.

Stiles smiles in response. “Well, if you like my hair, then I like my hair too.”

Derek grins and with a steady grip on Stiles’ hair, he pulls him in for a harder, filthier kiss, and Stiles moaned, surging up into Derek’s space, kissing Derek back for all he was worth.

They only break away at one point to lower themselves onto the grass, and Stiles lays on his back and pulls Derek on top of him, entangling their legs together as they made out, chest to chest, groin to groin.

Derek was surprised at the ferocity of his desire for Stiles after such a short time, but found himself not wanting to stop kissing his gorgeous lips.

Stiles’ hands wandered, and Derek gripped Stiles’ hair, using his grip as leverage to pull Stiles’ head back for a better angle on the kiss, which made it even better.

They were panting into each other’s mouths, gasps filling the space between their lips, which were quickly becoming red and swollen.

It hadn’t taken long for them both to become hard in their jeans, and Derek found himself grinding lazily against Stiles, the need there but not the most important need to Derek at that moment. They had the time to lead up to sex.

Derek actually wanted to take Stiles on a least one date before they got to that point.

That didn’t stop Derek from moaning as Stiles bucked his hips up into Derek’s, though.

“Mmm, Derek,” Stiles whispered, pulling away from Derek’s lips slightly. “I think the sprinklers came on.”

“Huh?” Derek asked, feeling dazed from their heady kisses.

But Derek’s question was answered in the next second when a sprinkler that was practically right next to them turned on, and then they were getting soaked.

“Oh my god,” Derek gasped, moving to pull himself up and away from the sprinkler, but Stiles laughed and pulled Derek back on top of him by his shirt.

“It’s fine, Derek, it’s just water, won’t hurt you. Promise,” Stiles murmured, and he was grinning up at Derek even as water landed on his face, in his hair.

“But-”

“Just kiss me, Derek,” Stiles grinned, sitting up enough to bring his lips right in front of Derek’s. “And get wet. You already have beer on your shirt, so whats a little water gonna hurt?”

And Derek laughed, feeling his clothes start to soak - not that his shirt hadn’t already got soaked, of course - and his hair start to soak.

“Okay,” Derek agreed, and grinned into his next kiss with Stiles, falling easily back onto the now wet ground, and feeling like he really was in a rom-com. Derek couldn’t believe it was his life.

~*~

Of course, two days later, Derek found himself sneezing constantly, and by the next day, he had a full blown cold, and Stiles, when he saw what happened to Derek, just laughed.

But he still went and got Derek some soup and stayed in bed with him for the rest of the day, so Derek forgave him anyway.


End file.
